


London Calling

by Immortalpen



Series: Reylo parallel universe collection [4]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Banker Kylo Ren, City of London - Freeform, Control Issues, F/M, Fluffy, Homesickness, Lonely Kylo Ren, Mechanic Rey, Modern AU, Smutty, Social Anxiety, british stereotypes abound, foster kid Rey, less angst that usual, lonely rey, routines must be upheld, the great tea debate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 02:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16630733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Immortalpen/pseuds/Immortalpen
Summary: Youngest VP in First Order history,  Kylo Ren finds himself transferred to London to oversee the set up of a UK branch. He's a fish out of water in a new city, and all the more frustrated and angered by it.A chance encounter with a mechanic, changes his perspective on his life, himself and love.My love letter to my city, and an effort to capture the concept of home sickness and loneliness.Inspired by Radiohead - Creep





	1. Creep

**Author's Note:**

> Youngest VP in First Order history, Kylo Ren finds himself transferred to London to oversee the set up of a UK branch. He's a fish out of water in a new city, and all the more frustrated and angered by it.
> 
> A chance encounter with a mechanic, changes his perspective on his life, himself and love.
> 
> My love letter to my city, and an effort to capture the concept of home sickness and loneliness. 
> 
> Inspired by Radiohead - Creep

Kylo Ren, the youngest VP of First Order Enterprises stared at the hood of his week-old Lexus in disbelief, as smoke rose from under the bonnet.

A horn sounded behind him, and he looked around to see cars piling up on the busy city road, already clogged with traffic at 4.30 on a Friday.

He went to the driver’s side, and pulled his briefcase from the back, and locked the car, then he turned, and walked away.

Horns blared louder than ever at his back, as he pulled his phone out, and tapped a quick message to his PA.

The grey sky was already darkening overhead, another dull English evening blowing in on the heels of a sharp wind. As he spotted the now familiar sight of a black city cab with an orange light pull to the curb, he hastened to get inside.

 

London. He hated it already.

 

 

* * *

 

“Catherine, it isn’t my problem.” He said in irritation, listening to his PA’s excuses, a thousand miles away.

“It really is, if you want to drive out to the factory today”

“Of course, I want to drive out to the factory today, at least I can accomplish something here, until the office is set up” Kylo snapped as he looked over a creeping dawn.

The Houses of Parliament, Big Ben and a distant London Eye were outlined against the pink and purple tendrils of light, finally making its way over the horizon. He supposed it might be nice to look at, if he cared about that sort of thing. It was the kind of thing his mother might have taken a picture of, the stray unwelcome thought making him clench the phone even tighter in his grip.

“If you hadn’t just abandoned it, but called a garage or something, they would have taken it somewhere closer to your hotel” Catherine was saying, and her clipped words frustrated Kylo all the more, as he knew them to be true. He let out a long breath through his nose, nostrils flaring and the tic in his cheek jumping as it always did when he was feeling strong emotion, not something he was comfortable with.

“My schedule-“ he started, and bit off as he knew it was useless to argue.

“Your schedule will just have to adapt” Catherine said firmly, and then, promised to text him the location of the car and hung up.

He held the phone to his ear for a minute afterward, wishing that conversation had gone differently, before casting it aside, and dressing for the day.

His suits were coordinated with his shirts, and ties to them. Each outfit had a matching pair of shoes, socks and cufflinks. He had two overcoats with him, and knew which suit to wear with each.

He dressed efficiently, and ate a sparse breakfast of cereal, as he still hadn’t had time to fit his exercise routine into his new, unscheduled existence.

Kylo Ren was a man who liked routine and stability. He enjoyed accomplishing his objectives, in a timely manner, and preferred to be in control of his day. He ate the same breakfast every morning, did the same fitness routine, and shower procedure. He had his hair the same way, once a month, and ate lunch at the same time everyday. His life had always run like a well oiled machine, and anything less was unacceptable.

His move to London had been nothing short of a personal nightmare. His mentor and boss, Snoke, had thought a change in routine would be good for him, or so he told him, but deep down Kylo knew he was being punished.

He had taken a few days off, at a difficult time, and missed an important merger. Snoke had been extremely disappointed in him. Only a few weeks later, he had been told that he would be getting the new office in London up and running, for the foreseeable future. Snoke had told him he couldn’t imagine who would handle the varied and exciting challenge of a new and unpredictable lifestyle, in glamorous London, better than Kylo. He had even said it with a straight face.

And so, he ate his meagre breakfast and stared over the skyline of the city that was his prison cell for the duration of his exile.

A text came through from Catherine, listing a garage in the nonsensical language of this city.

 

_207-211 Coventry Road, Off Three Colts Lane, London, Bethnal Green E2 6JN_

He typed the address into his Uber app, and waited to see how long this irritating set back would take.

A little while later, they were winding through the streets of the inner city, as his non-communitive driver stared at him in the rear view and fiddled with his radio. High rise flats and council built tenements surrounded them, as they moved from the shiny and expensive centre of the city, into the more gritty East end. Market stalls were clearing up on one side of the road, the sellers packing away their wares, as they drew up at the garage. The buildings around were heavily graphitised, and the neighbourhood held an eclectic mix of businesses, from mobile phone unlock stores, to betting shops, a grocery with fruit displayed outside in bowls, and run down looking hair salons.

“We’re here, mate” the driver pulled up outside a nondescript building. Kylo stepped from the car, and watched it pull back out, and turned to the building.

He caught sight of a small, tucked away sign, and was relieved that there actually was a garage there, and made for the entrance. Finding it proved to be harder than he had expected, and it involved a lot of looking around and trying doors. Finally, he made his way for the small close between buildings, and inside found a kind of courtyard, with an open garage door, and music and light spilling out.

_When you were here before_  
Couldn't look you in the eye  
You're just like an angel  
Your skin makes me cry

 

The song transported him back to his childhood, in a nowhere town, a teenager listening to Radiohead in his room and feeling misunderstood.

Inside was deserted, several cars were lined up for working on, there was a general feeling of disarray about the place. Posters lined the walls, bands and concerts mostly, a few car ones. There was a small office he could see through an inner window, and the desk there looked just as cluttered as the rest, something that made him shudder. His preferred desk was completely empty, no stray pieces of paper lying haphazardly around, not even a post it note. He hated messiness, something he had always been disinclined toward, and it had only gotten worse with age.

He looked down at the floor, smelling engine grease and petrol, and saw he had put his thousand dollar shoes, in a puddle of engine oil. He stepped from it, distaste twisting his mouth, as he moved toward his car, seeing it raised over a pit.

 

_You float like a feather_  
In a beautiful world  
And I wish I was special  
You're so fuckin' special

The Radiohead song continued to tug one foot to his childhood, as the other stayed firmly rooted in getting his car out of there as quickly as possible, when he heard it, a single, wavering voice, singing along to the melody. 

The sound seemed to be coming from under the car, he realised, as he reached his vehicle, and saw light shining up from an underground pit. The soft clank of tools, and that same meandering singalong voice.

 

_But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo._  
What the hell am I doing here?  
I don't belong here.

 

He cleared his throat, as the song reached a peak, and the person singing, clearly a woman, belted out the lyrics, ones he had always related uncomfortably to.

He could see a dark head moving now, coming to the edge of the pit, long hair, caught in three buns, and the tops of slim shoulders.

“Shit!” her voice called out, breaking out her perfect rendition of the 90s classic.

“Bugger!!” she swore again, and he felt a jolt of concern, suddenly imagining the whole lot of heavy, useless car crashing down on the hapless mechanic. He found himself kneeling on the dirty ground, and leaning his arm under the car, into the pit, quite without thought.

“Here, take my hand.” He instructed, repeating himself over the loud music.

“You what?” the woman’s voice called, moving back toward him, and then, she was climbing up the ladder at the edge of the pit.

Kylo stared, and caught himself doing it, suddenly aware of the picture he must make, leaning over the car pit, in his expensive suit and briefcase still clutched in his other hand. Especially considering that the damsel in distress, the songbird covered in grease, was clearly in no need of his help, and from the smile in her eyes she had no doubt of what had just happened.

He pushed himself up, his hand meeting the cold cement floor, and attempted to dust off his knees, unable to tear his eyes from the girl who was looking at him, her full lipped mouth now melting into an all-out smile.

“Well, if you didn’t have dust on your knees before, you certainly do now” she laughed, as he worked hard not to stare, before it became awkward.

She was not what he had expected, not in the least. She was almost the very last thing he had pictured, when he had walked in.

“Sorry if I gave you a fright… I just knocked something over, on myself, as you can see” she was saying, her London accent thick, as she lowered her hands to the t-shirt she had on over denim dungarees. Blondie, with a slash of black grease right down on side of her face. The girl sighed, as she inspected the damage, and then, her hands finding the hem of the top, pulled it over head in a fluid motion.

Kylo was frozen to the spot, as she emerged, her hair buns tousling, leaving little wisps of hair floating around her face, framing it in the most innocently attractive way. Underneath her t-shirt, the dungarees perched atop slim, tanned shoulders, that were tantalisingly bare, and, as she turned to the side to throw her dirty t-shirt on top of a chair, he could see she only had a pink sports bra under. A hot pink one. The small flash of her ribcage, just as caramel coloured as her face, made his mouth feel suddenly dry.

“I don’t strip off for every customer, just the ones who attempt to help me by risking life and limb” she was saying, and Kylo raised his eyes to her face, and realised with a sinking sensation that he had been staring. Staring at her body and been caught.

“Sorry” was all he managed, as she picked up a rag, and started to wipe her hands on it.

“It’s fine, after all, if you were standing there already, I suppose you’ve had to endure my singing, so I guess we’re even. How can I help you?” she said, thankfully smoothing over his ineptness. He felt like a bumbling teenager. It was the song’s fault, he thought weakly.

“That’s my car” he said finally, as she had fallen silent, and started to inspect him in return. Her direct assessment make his ears turn red, he could feel it. She raised an eyebrow at him, arching over a beautiful hazel eye.

“That explains so much” she said, turning to look at the car.

“In what way?”

“You, walking around Bethnal Green in that suit and watch, and the car… we don’t get a lot of them around here… you’re not from here, are you?” she asked. He shook his head.

“American” he supplied, as she nodded sagely.

“New to London?”

“I just arrived last week” he admitted, and her tinkling laugh made his ears turn red again. He had never felt as green as he did right now, in front of his slip of a girl, clearly much younger than him and a mechanic no less. He thought of his father for a second, and squashed that line of thinking quickly enough.

“Yep, mystery solved” she laughed, gesturing to the office.

“Cup of tea?” she asked, a phrase so often murmured in the city so far, it had started to sound like one word.

“No, I’m fine” he said, following her into the cluttered office a little nervously. Just seeing the mess made him anxious. She stepped around the paperwork, overflowing rubbish bin, and cleared some items off the visitor chair, before gesturing for him to sit. She went to the small sink in the corner, and filled up a plastic kettle.

“Are you sure, I’m making one anyway” she said, another offer he had heard endlessly since coming to the UK, as though the British thought the only reason he might refuse a cup of tea, was if it was an imposition for one to be made. He shook his head firmly.

“I only drink coffee” he said, having found that to be the best way to shut down the line of questioning.

“What! Seriously? What about first thing in the morning?” the girl said, her large eyes round with surprise, as she plugged the kettle in, and turned to lean a hip against the counter. She was ridiculously beautiful, he decided, as he shrugged under her incredulous stare.

“Not even then”

“In the afternoon… when it’s too late for coffee?” she tried again, and he shook his head.

“With a hangover?” she attempted, and from the centre of his chest, a laugh burst out. It sounded rusty, and he had no idea where it had come from, only the look of disbelief on her face, her conviction that there must be some time when he found tea appropriate was charming. She was charming, he found himself thinking, as her eyes crinkled in a smile.

“Well, in that case… I can offer you Nescafe Gold blend, or tap water”

“I’m fine” he said hastily, eyeing the glasses set on the counter, and the general unease the whole room was giving him. She shrugged, unbothered, and turned to make her tea as the kettle boiled. Watching her make it he knew he was seeing something that someone did utterly instinctively, a routine and habitual action. She popped her tea bag in the waiting mug with one hand, the other reaching in a small fridge for the milk, and then she was pouring and stirring, with the tea bag in.

“I don’t understand the British obsession with tea” he confessed suddenly, unsure where he was going with the comment, just wanting to engage with her further.

“Hey! It’s not just Britain. Anyway, you can tell a lot about a person from how they take their tea” she said, heading to the swivel chair behind the desk, and sitting down, pulling her legs crossed and cupping her tea with both hands.

“Like what?” he asked, amused all the more. Her easy manner, and open directness was disconcertingly lovely.

“Well, Earl Grey or English Breakfast… milk or lemon, sugar or no sugar. Most importantly, milk in before or after the hot water… that’s the great divider” she mused. He thought on it a moment.

“Surely milk would lower the temperature of the water-“ he started, as she groaned.

“You’re one of those! Ok, forget it, we clearly will never agree on anything, so we might as well get down to business” she said with a sigh, and he found that same rusty laugh lingering on his lips again.

“Please tell me that beautiful hunk of metal out there is still under warranty” she said, straight off.

“It is, I only got it last week” he confirmed, and she let out a long breath, seeming relieved.

“Then the work that needs carried out can be done at a specialist garage. I will look up the closest one and arrange for them to come and collect, if you can get in touch with the place you bought it from, and tell them to contact me” she said, making quick notes on a pad in front of her. He watched her, savouring the chance to take her in without her intelligent gaze tracking his every move. She handed him a post it note and he ripped his eyes from the slender column of her neck, and looked down at it. It had a mobile number on it, beside what could be her name, or the garage’s.

“Rey” he tested out, and she nodded.

“My name and number… for the Lexus dealership” she said. He swallowed. It was a mobile number.

“We don’t have a landline number yet, nobody really uses them anymore so…” she was saying, as she took a sip of her tea, the steam curling off it, and closed her eyes a moment, opening them again, and looking more relaxed.

“You are making me reconsider my stance on tea” he remarked, seeing her obvious relaxation under the warm liquid. She beamed.

“There’s no way you are surviving in the UK for any length of time without at least trying it” she said, setting down her mug, and standing. He shot to his feet as well, a feeling of panic bubbling up in his chest. He had been so taken with the unusual girl, Rey, he reminded himself, that he had forgotten he had actually needed the car today.

“When do you think it will all get sorted?” he asked, following her as she went back through to the main part of the garage.

“Can’t say, depending on the severity, at least a week” she said. He stopped stone still, her words were a crushing blow. She turned to see him, frozen to the spot, his hands clenched in frustration.

“Sorry it’s not better news.” She said, her smooth brow furrowing in sympathy.

“It’s fine. I just needed it for work. I have to visit a factory outside the city” he said, picking his briefcase up, only just realising that he had left it lying beside the pit, so taken with the girl, he had followed her blindly into the office.

“Public transport isn’t bad, or you could zip car it… or taxi even.” she suggested. He shrugged, already knowing that he wasn’t going to bother until his car was fixed.

“Maybe it’s a sign… you’re meant to get to know the city, or something, take some time to settle in” she said, and his annoyance must have flashed over his face, as she pulled a conciliatory face.

“Sorry, unsolicited advice is the worst… just tell me to bugger off” she suggested, and he laughed, glad he hadn’t upset her.

“No, it’s fine. I should. I just don’t do sightseeing well… I’m not really a good tourist.”

“Well, that’s alright, you’re not a tourist, are you? You said you moved here… just hang out in town, like Londoners do”

“I wouldn’t know where to start”

“What would you tell me to do it I went to your city…”

“New York” he supplied.

“Ok, cook. New York. If I said, to do as a New Yorker does, what would it be?” Kylo searched his brain for something to say, and in that expectant silence, he felt himself growing embarrassed again.

“I guess I work a lot” he admitted finally.

“Either that or you’re an undercover spy… you’ve never even been to New York, have you?” Rey teased him.

“I promise it’s the first one” he said, his laugh rumbling out his chest. Rey's phone started to ring in her pocket, and she pulled it out and looked at the number, before sighing, and tucking it back into her dungarees.

“You can take it, I should go anyway” he said, trying to be polite.

“No, it’s fine. You should call a taxi to get back to your hotel, or wherever you’re staying.”

“The Dorchester” he said, and when she raised her eyebrows and whistled, he felt embarrassed again, as though he had been caught showing off.

“Your company is treating you well, what’s that like?” she asked.

“It’s… nice” he said, realising he hadn’t really noticed much about the hotel, beyond its basic functionality.

“Well, don’t spoil me too much with the details. You really are a spy aren’t you, you need details, to make your cover story more convincing”

She typed on her phone for a few seconds.

“I’ve called you a taxi. You shouldn’t really wander around here dressed like that” she advised.

“Is it a bad area?” he asked, looking to the mouth of the shop, and wondering what kind of security Rey had, if she was working alone.

“Every area's got its bad bits, though I’m sure you’d be fine… looking like that” she gestured at his head, and then, down to the ground.

“Like what?”

“You know… huge and giant-like” she said.

“No offense, I happen to like giants” she continued on merrily, and he watched as she seemed to catch what she had just said, and turned pink, just a tiny rosy glow to her tanned cheeks.

“Oh, do you?” he murmured, wanting for a moment to make that pink flush deeper, to make her feel as flustered as she made him, with so little effort.

“Sure… BFG and all that” she muttered, before her phone started to ring again. She let out a long, exaggerated sigh, as she pulled her phone out, and looked at the screen.

“You need to take it” he said, stepped back, and trying to make his skipping heart do the same.

She nodded, with something close to regret on her face, her white teeth worrying her lip.

“Pass on my details, and I’ll get your car out of here as fast as I can”

“Don’t I owe you something?” she waved her hand at him.

“I didn’t fix it, so no. Nice to meet you…”

“Kylo. Kylo Ren” he said, reaching out a hand quickly. She slid hers into his, and he was arrested by how small and warm it was.

“Kylo Ren? You need to tell your spy master, that name is just not believable at all” she said with a final laugh.

“Goodbye, Mr Ren… oh, and try the pub! That’s where most Londoners hang out, at some point” she called, as she answered her phone and went back to the office. A short burst of horn called to Kylo, and he saw a black taxi had pulled up at the mouth of the garage.

“Goodbye, Rey” he called back, but she had already started a conversation with someone on the phone, and she could hear her voice, pitched low and then a short laugh.

He left the garage feeling like he was leaving more than just his car behind.

 

 

 

 

Rey watched the tall, awkward customer leave. American, and taciturn as the old movie stars she had watched as a girl on a black and white TV in her group home, growing up.

He was certainly Hollywood handsome, she thought wistfully, that hair, the smile, the dark, sombre eyes, and that wasn’t even touching on the body. She ground her teeth as she listened to her friend, Poe talk in her ear. Lately, he had decided that it was time for them to be more than friends, and she disagreed. They hadn’t moved past it yet, but they would. She wasn’t going to be changing her mind anytime soon. She wasn’t the most romantically driven person in the world. She liked hanging out with someone, and sure, kissing was great. Sex, she was still on the fence about. The grand total of twice that she had done it had been average at best, and she was beginning to think that there was some kind of conspiracy going on, where everyone hated it, but pretended it was great. Like going to nightclubs, or breastfeeding.

If she was going to entertain the notion of going there with someone, it had to be someone who made her weak in the knees. And Poe, her friend and only that, did not. The hot American stranger with the power suit, uptight shoulders, huge hands and a bewildered expression whenever he laughed, definitely did. But he hadn’t shown much interest, even when she had given him her personal number, so it looked like she was the only one feeling sexual tension between them. Which made sense, as that was usually the case.

“I can’t tomorrow night, I’m working” she said flatly, when Poe asked her to dinner again.

“Great, well, I’ll see you there, we can talk about it” he said decisively, and hung up, before she could counter. She dropped her head to the desk, thunking it down a couple of times for good measure. It looked like meeting Mr Undercover Spy was going to be the highlight of her weekend. At only 10am on Friday it was already ruined.

 

* * *

 

 

Ben went to the rented office space that First Order would occupy, located in the famous Walkie Talkie. It was high up in the grey, dirty looking London sky, in the heart of the City, Fenchurch Street. Why this was called The City, while the whole place was in the City of London, was unclear, just another mystery that everyone local seemed to take in their stride.

The building was huge, a prominent fixture of the skyline, and he passed many well known businesses on his way up in the elevator. He only hoped that First Order would thrive here, under his guidance. It wasn’t only the sudden move, and lack of usual structure and routine that had him anxious, it was also the pressure. He was being directly scrutinised by Snoke, and all his peers.

There were people plastering walls with new recessed lighting, and workers laying a new wooden floor. Men and women in overalls, drinking cups of tepid tea from the diner across the street, always thriving, despite being next to a Star Bucks.

First Order had a certain look to their New York office, that Snoke wanted recreated here in London. High ceilings, chrome and glass everywhere. He wandered around, but there was nothing he could help with, not even a place he could sit out the way.

He left reluctantly, and on a whim, decided to walk the distance back to his hotel. He set out, using his phone to guide him. 3 miles, more or less, it didn’t seem too far, he thought, considering he had nothing else to do.

He walked by the river at times, stopping to watch the sluggish Thames moving along under bridges, tourist boats passing by, laden with people despite the cold weather and choppy water. London Bridge and the Millenium Bridge passed him by, as he drifted through crowds of people in groups, taking pictures of each other.

The shopping areas were packed, tourists and locals alike drifted in and out of shops, buskers on the streets and even some performing artists. He passed through Trafalgar Square, and along Pall Mall, and peered into the beautiful historic buildings, now expensive restaurants and shops, and saw families together, eating and smiling, and couples holding hands. He had never felt so alone.

There is a particular type of loneliness that comes from being alone in a new place. He was someone who was used to feeling alone, even in the most familiar of places. He had sat in his childhood bedroom, and felt alone, almost every day of his young life. He had sat in his pristine, monotone New York penthouse, and felt loneliness etched deep inside him, waiting for the time for work to begin, a reason to leave the house.

There, his routine had helped him, given him something to focus on, obsess over. The right food, the right brand of water, his Chemex coffee, poured with a practiced hand. Ironing his shirts to perfection, as no dry cleaning place could replicate his precision. Monitoring his heart rate during his workout, making sure to cool down properly. His shower, with selected, never-changing products. They had changed the formula on his shampoo, and it had been a huge inconvenience to track down another which replicated his previous one. He remained unsatisfied with it, but Catherine refused to source anymore, and it felt too vain to do it himself. It wasn’t about vanity, it was about consistency. He had read Steve Jobs interviews with hunger, rationalising his need for routine with the great man’s take on decision fatigue. He simply needed everything to be the same, to save energy and brain power for more important things. Sometimes, he could almost make himself believe it.

Here though, as he walked unfamiliar streets, he was struck by how incredibly different and yet similar the loneliness felt under these skies. He had the loneliness, and none of the coping mechanisms. His work, his greatest solace, was inaccessible to him. It left him feeling oddly separate from everything, and all too aware of his inadequacies. He was untethered from reality. 

 As he passed Green Park and started toward Hyde park, he pulled the mechanic’s number from his pocket. Rey. Such a simple name, for such an enthralling girl. He had been in her orbit only half an hour, and yet, in that time, he had felt like he had a friend, after all, in this lonely new place. He opened his phone and put her number in, for safe keeping, and then moved to Spotify. He searched for Radiohead, and then, slipping his headphones on, clicked play.

 

_I don't care if it hurts_  
I want to have control  
I want a perfect body  
I want a perfect soul

_I want you to notice_  
When I'm not around  
You're so fuckin' special  
I wish I was special

 

 


	2. Losing my religion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Losing my Religion - R.E.M

Rey wiped down the bar, and offered a smile to one of the old regulars who was telling her about his council tax reduction. Sandy droned on, sipping his stout, and waiting for his friends to arrive. She worked the bar at The Well and Bucket in Shoreditch to make ends meet, and loved her old regulars, who had been coming to the Victorian pub for decades. While the décor had become more hip, the energy had remained the same, and while the hipsters came and went, old timers like Sandy stayed constant. She liked that. On a Saturday however, as the night wore on, it would get busy with less of her favourite customers, and more of the young crowd. It was always a mad house, but tonight, Rey wasn’t worried. She wanted it to be busy, in fact, as that would make it easier to avoid Poe.

She leaned against the bar, and pulled her phone from her apron, glancing at the time in the corner. It was getting on, 8pm, and the rush would start soon. The early dinner crowd was finishing and there was a lull. She noticed the message icon in the corner, and opened the message to read. She hoped it would be Poe saying he was too busy to come down and see her that night, but instead she saw a number she didn’t know.

Opening the message, her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

 

_So, what pub should a newbie Londoner grab a drink at on a Saturday night? Asking for a friend_

 

She bit down a laugh at his text. The American. It was surprising, but not unpleasant, definitely not. She started to type a sarcastic comment about people who stayed at the Dorchester, slumming it at a pub, when she stilled, and found herself deleting it. He might just be actually asking, not knowing the city, and she had given him the advice yesterday… or… he could be seeing if she would be willing to see him, if she wanted to.

She did want to, she realised, as she thought about it. Another round of banter with a man who was ridiculously attractive, and seemed to have no real clue about it, whose deep, rumbling voice had made her feel squirmy in her dirty dungarees. Plus, she rationalised, he was probably alone and didn’t know anyone in the city. Making the decision, she messaged him quickly, before she lost her nerve.

 

_The Well and Bucket, Shoreditch. Can’t say if it’s any good, but I could probably swing you a free drink or three._

Her cheeks were burning as she hit send, looking around the bar guiltily as though someone might look at her and see her little secret crush, written across her face. She watched the screen a moment, and then shook herself, and slid her phone back into her apron. There was no point dwelling on it, she thought grimly, as she went to serve a customer who had approached the bar.

The door at the end of the bar kept opening and closing, every jingle making her nerves climb higher and higher, as the crowd inside picked up, and she found herself working hard. Mixing cocktails and pouring shots, taking food orders and running out and clearing tables of empties when she had a chance. She had three other people manning the bar beside her, and together they worked like a machine.

“Rey, can you make me a blended cocktail?” Jessika called, as Rey stuck her head into the rapidly emptying ice reserve.

“On it” she replied, as she scrapped up the cold slush at the bottom as well, soaking her arms and t-shirt in the process. She hadn’t had the chance to check her phone, and now, couldn’t afford to think about it, though she couldn’t stop herself. He had probably just been being polite, and asking for advice on something around the Dorchester, and she had told him to come clear across town for a free drink, and to see her. She sighed, pushing her hair off her forehead, where it clung to the sweat she was building up.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the bar, and felt glad for a moment that he hadn’t shown up, as she took in her generally overwhelming, overtired and overworked appearance. She wore her customary black skinny jeans, ripped and faded in some places, but she loved them too much to part with them, they were like a second skin. On top, a black deep v t-shirt, and a black apron over the whole lot. She practically looked like a teenager in the outfit, hardly someone that a man wearing a designer suit and driving a Lexus would be interested in.

She had just finished mentally criticising herself, when she became aware of another customer leaning on the bar top, now sticky with drinks. She approached, her eyes on the slimy counter, wiping a rag over it, as the man moved his hands to allow her along. His extremely large hands.

She looked up, and almost jumped as she realised who it was.

Kylo watched her with a slight smile, his face pale in the low, pub light, his brown hair staying off his forehead in slight waves. He might not be conventionally handsome, Rey thought, for a moment, his face was an odd mix of extremes. Soulful eyes, sharp cheek bones, prominent nose and a full mouth. But together, each bit fit into a beautiful picture. She smiled back at him, forgetting for a moment how unhappy she was with her own appearance.

“I heard tell there might be a free drink, if I hauled my ass over here”

“You heard right, my friend, unless Amilyn overhears you, and then, I have no idea where you got that idea from!” she quipped, nodding to her manager who was flirting with a girl at the bottom of the bar and totally absorbed in her task.

“What’ll be?” she asked, bracing her arms on the bar, flipping her bar cloth over her shoulder.

“What’s good here?”

“Depends, are you a beer man, or the hard stuff?” she asked.

“Liquor, preferably.” Kylo said.

“Whiskey?”

“Like, scotch?” he asked and Rey sighed.

“Not like scotch” she grumbled as she turned around and reached up for a bottle on a higher shelf. She finally reached it, and turned, pulling her t-shirt down from where it had crept up, and saw Kylo’s eyes avert from the slash of bared midriff. Interesting, she thought to herself. For someone so reserved, there was a heat to his gaze that made it a little hard to breath.

“Taste” she said, holding out a glass with a thimble full of whiskey for tasting in it. He obliged, and she watched him suck the last drop from a full bottom lip, strangely mesmerised by the act.

“Good, strong, fiery?” he asked in a questioning tone. Rey nodded.

“It’s an Isle of Skye whiskey, it’s peaty… that’s what you’re tasting, and a little salty. Goes well with oysters, which just happens to be a Well and Bucket speciality.” She said. He looked at the menu beside him.  

“I don’t normally eat late at night” he said, his eyes glancing around the busy pub, the groups of people chatting and laughing, relaxing after a long week of work.

“I hate to break it to you, Kylo. It’s only half nine.” He laughed.

“Well, us super secret spies have to keep a strict schedule. Dinner at 7, and lights out at 10”

“That’s no fun at all… and doesn’t that mean your bedtime is soon… did you come down here for me to tuck you in?” she teased, and suddenly realised what she was insinuating. He looked uncomfortable, and Rey took a breath, deciding to see the joke out.

“Because I have to break it to you… “ she said, and his dark eyes shifted to hers. There was something there, something you don’t expect to see in someone who looked like him. A deep, hidden vulnerability, fear even, fear of judgement, or rejection. She leaned on the bar, bringing her face closer to his, and he leaned instinctively in.

“I don’t finish work till midnight” she murmured, and saw the moment where he realised that she wasn’t offended or upset, that in fact, she was teasing him.

“I’m heartbroken” he said, leaning back, and letting his breath out all at once.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you help me tidy this place up, if you want” she suggested lightly, happy to see him relaxing a little, his hazel eyes dancing as on hers. Out the corner of her vision, she saw a figure approach the bar, a too familiar one, and turned to see it was the person she had been dreading. Poe. He waved her over but Jessika got to him first. Rey chewed her lip as she watched them speaking.

“What’s wrong?” Kylo asked immediately his eyes perceptive to the shifting of her mood.

“Nothing, just someone I want to avoid… indefinitely.”

“Can I help at all?”

“If only…” she muttered, and then looked at him a sneaky idea occurring to her. It was a bit of a low blow, but she had tried the nice way, and it wasn’t working out. He refused to listen to her calm and patient explanation that she saw them as just friends, and his high-handed insistence that she needed to give being a couple a chance was starting to really annoy her.

“Actually… if you really mean that, there is something you could do” she breathed, seeing Jessika start to mix Poe’s drink. She knew he would be over as soon as it was finished.

“Sure, I mean it” Kylo said, fixing her with that steady look of his. She took a moment to wonder if she was really considering what she was considering, of this highly intelligent, probably very wealthy, older man, and then decided she had nothing to lose.

“Can you pretend to be my date, just for a little while, just until my friend gets the idea that I am not interested in him?” Kylo startled back, obviously surprised, as he seemed to search for words.

“He won’t just take your word?” he started to ask, as Rey spied Poe making his way toward them, thankfully hampered by the many people in the bar.

“No, and there’s no time to get into it… please? Do this and I’ll owe you forever. Please?” she murmured.

“Ok, sure, whatever you want” Kylo said, just in time, as Poe arrived beside him, and set his drink on the bar.

“There’s my little Rey of sunshine. You looked lovely this evening, as always” he said, and Rey fought the urge to roll her eyes. Always the ladies’ man, Poe had used the very same lines in front of her so many times, she’d lost count. That he actually thought it would work on her was a little galling.

“Hi Poe. Nice to see you too, I can’t really hang out though, I’m on a date” Rey said, congratulating herself on her brilliant ad hoc plan. Poe’s face went blank, before he sputtered back to life.

“A date? Where is he?” Poe asked indignantly.

“Right here” Kylo said, and in a move that would replay in her mind, whenever Poe annoyed her in the future, stood up, pushing his stool back. He straightened up, and up some more, until Poe was barely grazing his shoulder. He really was a giant, and seeing him use his size like that was a turn on, Rey couldn’t help but acknowledge it. Poe narrowed his eyes, looking up at Kylo.

“Is this a joke? Are you taking the piss?” he asked. Rey shook her head, exchanging a smile with Kylo.

“Afraid not”

“How come I’ve never seen him around before?”

“I’m new in town” Kylo rumbled his accent revealing itself with further conversation.

“A tourist? Seriously Rey”

“He’s not a tourist, he’s moved here” Rey said, moping the bar top. Poe looked back and forth between them.

“What kind of date is it, he’s just going to watch you work?” Poe tried further.

“Until I get off, and then… who knows where the night will take us?” Rey said lightly, resting her hand atop Kylo’s, and then, spontaneously ran her hand up his forearm and squeezed. Muscles flared beneath her fingers, and she felt a thrill run through her.

“OK, I guess I’ll just catch up with you later… “ Poe was saying, finally taking the hint.

“If it’s about dating, I don’t think we should bother. I know how that conversation will go” Rey reminded him. He looked close to arguing, when suddenly Kylo reached over, and tucked a stray hair, escaped from her ponytail, behind her ear. It was intimate and gentle, hinting at a broader world between them, at a deeper connection that Poe could surmise from that simple liberty. He nodded slowly, clearly annoyed, and then, dipped his head toward them both.

“Well, I’ll call you Rey, and erm, nice to meet you, mate” Poe said sourly, as he turned and pushed through the crowd and away from the bar.

“That was amazing, I’ve been trying to get him to back off for weeks!” she whispered to him, her grin splitting her face in two with happiness.

“Men should take no for an answer” Kylo muttered, looking at Poe’s retreating back with a frown.

“Don’t worry about him, the most he’d ever do is annoy me about it”

“Still, it’s a dick thing to do” he said, turning back to the bar.

“Thank you, that was really kind of you, you went along with it so well, I think he really believed it. Sorry, about feeling up your arm” she said. The said arm flexed, as though remembering her touch, and he ducked his head.

“It was nothing.”

“No, it wasn’t, not to me anyway. How can I repay you? In free drinks?” she asked, hoisting the whiskey bottle. He cleared his throat, seeming to turn something over in his mind.

“No, I’m not really much of a drinker, to be honest.”

“Ok, what else can I do for you?” she asked, crossing her arms on the bar, and wondering why everything she said was sounding so incredibly dirty just now. It was probably just her filthy mind, she realised, as she looked over the beautiful man sitting before her.

“Well, I’m new in town, and I don’t really know anyone. Maybe you could give me a sightseeing tour, a just hangout another time, I don’t know… I don’t want to push in-”

“Are you free tomorrow?” she asked abruptly. His mouth hung open at her blunt and immediate invitation. He nodded slowly.

“Good, we will start at Borough Market, so bring your appetite… it’ll be great, especially since you can pay Mr Lexus, and upside, I think it’s not even going to rain tomorrow!” she said with a smile so infectious it made him smile back.

“You have a funny way of measuring weather satisfaction in this country” he said.

“Hey, we work with what we’ve got” she countered, as she spun around to serve another customer, flashing him another outrageously beautiful smile.

“Yes, you do” he thought to himself, as he settled into the chair to watch Rey work, and bask in her light for a little while longer.

 

It had taken him all afternoon on Saturday to decide to message her. He’d had the idea as soon as he’d realised she’d given him a mobile number, if he was honest with himself.

Then, as he’d sat alone at the hotel bar, eating dinner there, afraid that if he ordered room service, he wouldn’t have left the confines of his room all day, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Where she was and who she was with. What someone like her would do on a Saturday night. His phone had been in his hand before he’d known it, and he had looked at her name. Rey. He’d listened to Creep about a hundred times that day, and he could admit to himself, he had a little crush. He was sure it was because he was feeling lonely, and she had spoken to him, and laid his anxiety to rest for a while. It was also probably because he had hadn’t indulged himself physically in a long time. He never found it hard to attract women, he assumed it was his obvious wealth and status, but after the first date, or the first night together, there was never really much reason to continue it. The itch had been scratched, and there was never any connection. Never a spark. He had made an effort once before, when his mother had insisted, but the girl he had dated had thrown off his routines, and his life had felt messy and unmanageable. Now, adrift in a sea of uncertainty, something about Rey felt steady, faithful and loyal. Thinking about her, felt like doing his routines. It calmed his jagged mind.

He had composed his message to her at length, deliberating over the text endlessly, before finally settling on something. It was similar to something a young co-worker had joked about. He hoped it would make her smile. But then, she’d replied, so openly, and eagerly, he had felt shocked. People rarely warmed to him quickly, if at all. Rey messaging him back straight away was so much more than he had expected, never mind that she had picked up on his implication that he would like to see her.

Now, he watched her behind the bar. She was efficient and organised, polite with customers and perfectly professional. Her eyes flickered to him at times, and it was almost as though they were sharing some secret joke, right there, in the midst of the din. He felt special, somehow. Chosen.

The bar started to wind down, when Rey rang an actual bell, signalling last call. Then, she started cleaning. Having seen the garage he was surprised she was so adept at it. It took an effort to keep his eyes from her lithe body, as she polished counters and stacked chairs, waving off his offers of help. As the last of the customers left, he stood.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked, as she stacked the bar stools up, save his and the one next to his.

“Home?” he asked. She shook her head, untying her apron at the neck and letting the straps fall down around her waist.

“I promise you another drink” she said, waving to her boss, Amilyn , as she left with the same woman she had been chatting to most of the night.

“I’m on lock up duty” Rey said, leaning over the bar to grab some liquor bottles. She glanced back at him, her body still stretched out over the gleaming wooden top.

“What’s your poison?” she asked.

_You,_ his mind supplied.

“What do you have?”

“Tequila, vodka… gin, I guess?” she said.

“Tequila’s fine”

“I knew you were going to say that” she grumbled, as she pulled a bottle of tequila out and placed it on the table, along with a bowl of lemon wedges and salt. She licked the back of her hand, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking at her tongue, as it flashed out, aware that it would probably be the last straw for the painful arousal he had been trying to subdue all evening, without success.

“Your turn” she instructed, as she salted her hand, and then, held out the salt to him. He obliged by licking his skin, and let her sprinkle salt over the wet stripe. She offered him the tequila shot, and a lemon wedge.

“Cheers” she said, and licked off the salt, slammed the shot back and bit into the lemon, her eyes narrowing, and face pinching at the flavours. Kylo followed suit, resisting the urge to cough as the tequila burned a path down his throat.

“The first one is always the worst” she said sagely, rubbing her tearing eyes.

“So… why’d you buy a car your first week in London?” she asked, without preamble.

“I don’t like public transport… too much left to chance.” And too many people, he thought to himself.

“The traffic is so awful here, it’ll take ages to get anywhere” she said.

“Yeah, I’m getting that… how do people get anywhere?”

“They take the tube… or taxi, if they are feeling fancy. Actually, now I think about it, since they put on the night tube, I haven’t taken a taxi in… years” she said with a smile.

“Why not?” he asked, relaxing back in his chair as she played with spilt salt on the counter.

“Too expensive… that’s one. Secondly, doesn’t feel as safe as the tube”

“Really?”

“It’s hard for someone like you to understand” she said, and must have seen the flicker of hurt on his face, as she hurried to explain.

“You know… you - a giant! Who would attack you? Someone with a suicide wish… but for a woman, alone, in a big city, getting into a car with a stranger. It doesn’t always feel safe. Now the tube, there’s always other single girls on the tube, at all hours. Nurses getting off the night shift, and clubbers going home. Girls who stayed too long at their stressful internships, and office party co-workers eating kebabs and gossiping about their colleagues. Young couples, too skint for anything else. It’s a cosy little family of misfits” Kylo considered how he might feel, being Rey size and stature, alone in a car with a man, subject to his whims. He felt an idiot for never having considered it before.

“I saw on Uber you can request a female driver” he said. She nodded.

“I know, it’s great… expensive though.” She said, again talking about money. Seeing as how she apparently had two jobs, it seemed a topic that was often on her mind. He again felt ignorant. He had so much, and used little of it, to be honest, and someone like Rey, sparkling with kindness and friendliness, wit and compassion, was working herself to the bone, and couldn’t afford the odd taxi fare.

 “Shot time” she announced suddenly, and busied herself with the ritual of preparing the shot. She again helped him to salt his hand.

“If you don’t want it, its ok, I can get you a coke or something” she said softly, as he hesitated over the shot.

“No, it’s fine, as long as you’re good, me too” he said, figuring she would probably reach her limit before him.

They slammed back the shots, laughing in the aftermath. Rey shook her head rapidly, as though she was trying to dispel the vile taste from her mouth. Her hair slipped from its ponytail, and she tugged at the band and let it fall around her shoulders.

“Ok, your turn to ask me something” she instructed, tapping her foot to a song that had just come on, the music quite audible now they were alone.

 

 

_Oh, life is bigger_  
It's bigger  
Than you and you are not me  
The lengths that I will go to  
The distance in your eyes  
Oh no, I've said too much  
I set it up

 

 

He was struck again by the soundtrack of his teenage years, following him through this foreign city, surrounding him whenever he was with this girl, one plucked straight from his imagination.

“Well?” Rey prompted, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

“Ok, why car mechanic?” he asked, genuinely interested. He was always interested in what made people chose the things they did, the way they would spend the majority of their time.

“Why not?” she asked back straight away.

“It’s so – messy” he said, failing to quite impart the difficulty he had with that concept.   
“It’s not so bad… sure, it’s not the most highbrow employment…” she trailed off, a tinge of a blush on her cheeks. He hurried to correct her assumption that he was belittling her for it.

“It’s complicated, I know that, it takes a lot of skill. My father was a mechanic, actually” he admitted.

“Really! I take it he didn’t pass that particular knowledge on to his son?” she teased, and it was his turn to fall quiet.

“No. We weren’t close like that… I mean, in the end…” he trailed off, suddenly confronted with thoughts of Han that he had successfully kept hidden away for a long time. Now, in this city, he was turned inside out, everything he tried to avoid and hide spilling out at every chance.

 

_That's me in the corner_  
That's me in the spotlight  
Losing my religion  
Trying to keep up with you  
And I don't know if I can do it  
Oh no, I've said too much  
I haven't said enough

 

“I’m sorry”

“You don’t have to be, you didn’t know them” he said, and her eyes softened further at the slip. _Them._

“But I know you… so I’m sorry… for you” she whispered. He swallowed a lump sticking in his throat, and nodded briefly, and looked to the mirror over the bar, to calm his raging emotions. He saw Rey in the reflection, watching him with an expression that made his heart tremble.

“OK, so mechanic… one of my foster fathers had a garage, and I would go there after school and wait until it was home time. I hated to do homework, so instead, I would watch the men work… after a while, I would help, and it just made sense to me. It clicked, somewhere, deep inside. I’ve loved it since… making something broken work again. Fitting together parts that were just nothing alone, and suddenly, making them valuable, as part of something else.” She trailed off, her attempt to change the subject for him opening a deeper understanding in her own childhood for him.

“You were fostered?” he asked, his mind trying and failing to imagine a childhood moving to different homes and families. It was the worst thing he could imagine.

“Yeah, a few times, didn’t really stick though. I spent most of my teens in a group home, not far from here, actually… and then aged out, started working”

“How old are you Rey?” he suddenly asked, realising how young she looked as she spoke about her childhood.

“I’ll be 20 soon” she said, and he coughed, surprise catching his chest and stealing his breath.

“What? It’s not that young” she said defensively, crossing her arms over her chest and daring him to disagree.

“It is very young.”

“You?”

“29” she beamed at his words, taking him by surprise.

“That’s much younger than I thought you were”

“It is? Wait how old did you think I was?” he asked, confused by her reaction, and unsure if he should be offended.

“At least 35… when you came into the garage, you had the weight of the world on your shoulders” she explained, as she lined up another shot.

“I’m glad you’re only 29” she suddenly said quietly, and he looked down to see her watching his reaction closely, her vivid hazel eyes lingering on him in a way that made his palms damp. He was speechless for a long moment, as he watched her offer him the shot. He nodded numbly, but made no move to prepare.

She sighed, and picked his hand up off the counter top. In a move that shocked him, she pulled it quickly to her mouth, and licked a wet stripe up the back of his hand, and put the lemon wedge between his fingers. She sprinkled the salt over the wet skin, and did the same for herself. He was trying to regain function in his limbs.

“Bottoms up” she said, clinking her glass against his, and putting the shot to her lips and knocking it back. He watched her long neck move, as she forced the shot down, but made no move to copy.

“Kylo, you’re meant to drink too” she complained, as he realised that she had finished, and was watching him.

When he moved, it was suddenly, a lunging that scattered the dish with lemon wedges, and the salt shaker. His shot rolled away, spilling over the counter top, as his hand reached into her hair to cup the back of her head, and he pulled her face to his, finding her lips.

She tasted of tequila, and as she opened her mouth to let him in, her tongue sliding over his, it burned him. There was the rub of salt and sting of lemon juice on his lips, as his mouth plundered hers. It was a ravaging kiss, and she met it, stroke for stroke. He bit down on her lips, she sucked back, he retreated, she advanced and on and on. Her hands were tangled in his t-shirt, gripping him to her by the neck, as his hands moved in her hair, cupping the delicate back of her head, or winding strands around his fingers to bend her as he wanted. He had no idea what he was doing. This wasn’t him. He was acting without thought or fore planning, and he felt totally out of control at that moment. The strangest part was, it didn’t destroy him, as he feared it would.

“I never do this” Rey murmured, as though she was reading his mind, as his lips moved along her cheek, tasting her, drawing great lungfuls of the smell of her skin.

“Ok”

“I’m serious” she insisted, as his lips found her neck, and she gasped. Her nails sank into the skin of his shoulders, and he welcomed every little stinging point.

“I know” he murmured.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m one of those girls who gets off with just any passer-by…” she was muttering, as his mouth found her ear, and he sucked the lobe between his lips, and bit softly down on the tender skin. She arched her back, a gasp escaping her, and he felt a primal surge of satisfaction, to cause her such pleasure. This girl. This anomaly.

“I don’t do this either” he mumbled against the skin of her neck, scratching his stubble against her lightly, making her shiver.

“Really? You’re bloody good at it for a beginner” she was saying. His hands held fast to her shoulders, and she leaned away, looking up at him, more devastatingly beautiful than ever, baring the marks of his kisses, her lips swollen and red, her cheeks flush, eyes lazy with desire. He pulled himself back, waited to be bidden, as she looked him up and down, her eyes lingering on his broad chest and strong arms. She smiled, and he felt again, a surge of pure, masculine pride under her regard. She took one of his hands from her shoulders and slowly slid it down to her chest.

“Touch me” she said softly, holding his palm against her breast. Even without moving he could feel it’s weight against his fingers, the nipple hardening quickly.

“Please” she breathed, and he obliged, unable to wait one more moment. He rubbed his thumb over the stiff peak of her nipple, and she shuddered. He did it again, bringing his other hand to cup her other breast, kneading it gently.

“Harder…” she instructed, and a small thrill went through him at her confidence. Taking a chance, he pinched her nipples between his fingers, harder than before, reducing the blood flow for a moment, before releasing them and her hands came up to hold his arms, as she bit her lip.

“Fuck, that felt good” she confessed. He repeated the move, pushing her slight breasts together, grinding them harder, rougher, watching for her reaction. A red flush was working its way up her neck, and her hands urged him on. She liked it. She liked his touch, his roughness, his large awkward hands suddenly the perfect instruments to play her body.

“I want to taste them” he said, his hands dropping to the edge of her t-shirt, sliding a hand along the flat and warm plane of her abdomen. She nodded, squirming closer to him.

He was about to lift the rest of the material up, and feast his eyes on her, when a loud bang from the door stopped them both cold.

The lights were low and they were hidden around a bend in the bar, they couldn’t be seen. The bang came again, and he saw Rey struggle out of the spell that had been woven over them, and glance to the door.

“I have to see to it” she said, her voice rough and low, and he felt a terrible disappointment fall through him, as she pulled herself up and walked away.

His body was painfully aroused and he sat and tried to pull himself together, to piece back his control, breath by breath. He had practically jumped her, he thought guiltily, this girl, the first person to show an interest in him in years, not that he made any effort to meet new people at home. He heard her telling some revellers that last call had passed and they were closed. After a moment, the door shut, and he heard her footsteps approaching.

God, she was breath-taking, he thought to himself, as she appeared, t-shirt back in place, though her hair was still spilling over her shoulders. She looked a little embarrassed, her cheek were pink, and her lips still bee stung. Her neck held a slight pink roughness, and he realised that it was marks from his beard. The thought that she bore the evidence of his touch was uncomfortably attractive.

“I should finish locking up, there’ll just be more and more people thinking we’re still open if some lights are on” she said apologetically. He nodded, standing, and turning away quickly, as he realised his body was not ready to let go of the idea of having her across the bar. Her eyes glanced down, widening as she realised his predicament, before she blushed even more furiously, and turned toward the bar.

“I’ll just start locking up” she muttered, and moved away. Kylo took deep breaths, the same ones he did when he was exercising and trying to master his body, and bring it back under his control.

He could sense Rey moving about in his periphery, and wondered if he should feel more embarrassed about his obvious attraction to her. Strangely, he didn’t feel embarrassed in the slightest. Clearly, he would want her, who wouldn’t? She must be used to it, men making a fool of themselves over her. He comforted himself by remembering her insistence that she didn’t often reciprocate the attention.

“Are you ready?” she asked from behind him, and he nodded, his body finally relenting under his iron clad control.

They stepped out into the cold night, and watched her lock the door, and pocket the keys. She was only wearing a thin leather jacket. He shrugged off his own overcoat, and put it gently around her shoulders. She looked surprised by the action, as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Can I see you home?” he asked, and at her quick glance, realised how that might sound.

“To your door, I mean… to be safe” he added. She walked a few more steps, and smiled at him.

“My own personal giant, secret spy bodyguard?” he nodded, and she surprised him once more, by laughing and stepping closer, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow, linking arms with him, and walking alongside him, her body bumping into hers occasionally.

“Sounds good” she said. They walked in companionable silence, as he looked around, as the trendy bars and pubs of Shoreditch faded away behind them, and they approached an area more similar to the garage’s location. The streets were still busy, people waiting at bus stops, and cars clogging up the road.

“I can’t believe there’s traffic after midnight”

“Welcome to London”

“Do you usually walk home alone this way?” he asked, eyeing the dark alleys between the run-down buildings lining the road.

“It’s not so bad, it’s actually my neighbourhood. The group home I told you about, it’s just further up this street” she said, as they drew up to a small chicken shop, bright lights still spilling out onto the pavement, and the smell of greasy chicken permeating the air.

“We have arrived, safely, thanks to my BFG” she said, indicating a door with a smashed pane of glass beside the chicken shop entrance. He frowned at it, seeing several buzzers, and a dimly lit stair inside.

“This is where you live?” he asked, the lack of cleanliness and security making him anxious.

“Well, it’s not The Dorchester, but it’ll do, for now. Plus… you know, I really love chicken so win win” She said firmly. She seemed a little upset by his reaction, stepping back from him and taking off his jacket, handing it over to him.

“I – Are we still on.. for tomorrow?” he was almost afraid to ask, feeling as though he was asking too much, and yet, desperately wanting the answer to be yes. She bit her lip, and seemed surprised by his question.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing, I just… I thought you were going to ask to come in” she admitted. The tension between surged higher again.

“Did you want me to?”

“I’m not sure… yes and no” she said, honestly, her eyes searching his for an answer.

“Well, it’s late, and cold, and you must be tired. We’ve been drinking too… so I think I should just go.” He said, the list of reasons as much to convince himself as her. She nodded, and he knew he would treasure that flash of disappointment on her face.

“But I’d like to see you tomorrow, if you still want to. I want to see this city through your eyes” he said, wondering where his eloquent words were coming from, because he never seemed to find them with anyone else. She smiled, and the tension in his chest dissolved.

“Ok, I’d like that. 10 at Borough Market?”

“Why don’t I pick you up?” he said, already imagining getting lost in crowds and being unable to find her. A new place, with a lot of people and no idea what to expect was his worst nightmare. But with Rey at his side, he could manage, he was certain.  

“Ok, sounds good. See you then” she said, and pushed herself up on her tiptoes, to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight, Rey”

“Goodnight, Kylo”


End file.
